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In this alternate universe, Lord Voldemort is dead, but so is Harry Potter. Factions continue to fight, Hogwarts educates the next generation of witches and wizards, and the Ministry of Magic does its best to hold everything together.

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Avariella Hudson
25 : Alumnus

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Hudson, Avariella

on Sun Apr 13, 2014 5:16 pm



FULL NAME: Avariella Hudson

NICKNAMES: Ava, mostly. Ellie/Ella by her parents and family. But she makes no secret of the fact that she infinitely prefers her full name. Nicknames are a social norm, so must be gracefully accepted....but she does find them, especially on the ‘Ellie’ side of things, slightly immature.

AGE: Twenty two. December born, so had to enter Hogwarts a year late, unfortunately.

ALLEGIANCE: The right side.


Her socks were wet, through and through. Her wet curls were plastered across her forehead, and to the nape of her neck. She would be flustered due to being in such an utterly disreputable state on the first day of school, but she was a little too cross to care. Honestly. Who on earth transported eleven-year olds, each more fidgety than the next, to a filthy big magical castle on boats that were likely to capsize with the lightest breeze?

Idiots, thats who, her mind commented logically- but disrespect towards teachers was quite a no-no, so she silenced the thought the second it took birth.

And then there was the Hat. Sure, she didn’t expect a pop quiz to test the personalities of her and her batchmates the minute they swooped into the castle......but this was the best magical school in all of the world, for heaven’s sake. Surely she could expect the all-wise, all-knowing omniscient power that would decide their fates to look a little better than a mangled, singing hat. The next they’d know their classes would be taught by tap-dancing scarves.

“Its alright, it lets you choose.”

Her draggled hair flipped around, as she turned to look at the boy who addressed her. “What?”

“......the Hat.” The boy made a half-aborted motion towards the artifact she’d been staring intently at, sounding like he was having distinct second thoughts about starting the conversation. “It....lets you choose. Which House, that is.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worrying about that.” Avariella smiled politely. Then, a little more amiably, because it never hurt to leave good impressions, “Rather a silly thing to get worked up about, isn’t it?”

The boy hadn’t been fidgeting endlessly with his shirt cuffs like the girl in front of her, nor chewing on a quill to slivers, but as his face fell.....shut (that was the only appropriate word really, nothing else sufficed), Avariella somehow got the impression that he wasn’t in enthusiastic agreement with her. He nodded, a stiff little jerk of the chin, overlong bangs tumbling over green eyes, and turned to clap for Tiana Gibbs who had just joined Ravenclaw.

“Hudson, Avariella.”

She stumbled a little over the overlong hem of her robe, the wet material somehow managing to entangle itself about her ankles (stupid rain) but reached the front of the Hall without much incident, turning around to drop down on the stool with minimal grace. Seconds later, soft felt brushed past her lashes, vision was shielded from a hundred students staring unabashedly at her like they had nothing better to look at, and the Hat perched atop her forehead started bunching up almost as if drawing breath.


“Wait!” It took several stunned seconds to realise that that shrill squeak had actually been emitted by her vocal cords- her mind was still recoiling from the word that the Hat had almost yelled out. Her bony fingers shot upwards to curl around the brim of the Hat and pulled it down rather forcefully, furiously whispered words tumbling out of rapidly moving lips, “What on earth are you thinking?”

The Sorting Hat sounded ridiculously bored, almost as if its had this conversation a million times before and was thoroughly fed up of it. “You are opportunistic, and seek to establish good relations with people for the favours it can bring you, are exceedingly adept at bringing people around to your way-”

“I do not belong in Slytherin.” And the reason why the Hat was struck silent at that was probably not the words but the tone in which it was delivered, calm and so decidedly assured that it sounded as if Avariella had never believed in anything more. She cleared her throat, loosening her grip on the Hat a bit, and said again, remarkably panic-free because obviously there’s been a mistake and the Hat’s gone senile in its old age and even now, the possibility that she might spend seven years in the House of Voldemort and Malfoy and Death Eaters seems remote and absolutely laughable. “I know myself. I am not a Slytherin.”

The Hat made a sound- it almost sounded like a scoff, but Avariella was hardly fluent in the mannerisms of magical hats and she had been sitting here too long anyway. “As you wish.....” Echoed in her ears next, and after a pause: “HUFFLEPUFF!”

The insane, and altogether too bloody patronising piece of apparel was whisked off her head immediately, and she sedately made her way to the table clapping wildly and cheering for her. A number of congratulatory thumps landed on her back the second she reached, another number smiled amiably and enquired about impromptu dips in the Black Lake while crossing it and Heating Charms, and it altogether felt as if she’d stepped into a Smile Organisation NGO office. Her brows clouded together for a second when a few names down the list later, the boy with the eyes was chivvied over to the House she had just rejected- but while there’s a lot of polite clapping and gawking involved, Avariella compared and contrasted the downright blindingly happy mood of her own table to the sombre ambience at the one to the far right.......and concluded she made the right decision.


WAND: Elm, unicorn hair, ten inches, versatile

Elm: “The unfounded belief that only pure-bloods can produce magic from elm wands was undoubtedly started by some elm wand owner seeking to prove his own blood credentials, for I have known perfect matches of elm wands who are Muggle-borns. The truth is that elm wands prefer owners with presence, magical dexterity and a certain native dignity. Of all wand woods, elm, in my experience, produces the fewest accidents, the least foolish errors, and the most elegant charms and spells; these are sophisticated wands, capable of highly advanced magic in the right hands (which, again, makes it highly desirable to those who espouse the pure-blood philosophy).”

"Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard. Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may 'die' and need replacing." ~Garrick Ollivander

PLAY BY: Hilarie Burton


HAIR COLOUR: Fresh, sun-kissed wheat

EYE COLOUR: Grey-green

COMPARATIVE HEIGHT: Average height, aided considerably by platform heels and wedges

BODY BUILD: Ectomorphic. Long limbs, thin wrists and ankles, swan-like neck, narrow waist, toned calves. Very well-proportioned.

GENERAL APPEARANCE: The first thing that strikes one about Avariella’s appearance is her hair- and while she prides herself on not being shallow, woe betide the wizard who messes with her hair products. As sleek, well-groomed wheatish curls that fall about her carved jawline or straightened tresses pinned to the back of her head in a professional setting, Avariella’s hair is pretty much her best feature, granting much needed colour to her fair complexion. Aforementioned fair skin is prone to blackheads and bumps and burns up in the sun easily, but is well served by stretching over a rather defined facial structure, with long, pointed nose, high, arched brows, a small mouth and a dimpled chin. Blonde lashes sweep over clear eyes that change colour in the light; and overall, while her smile is rather attractive and her features generally pretty, she doesn’t have any feature which lends particular character to her face. Her looks are more the assimilated result of proper care and grooming rather than any raw, natural beauty.

Avariella’s dressing sense, like the rest of her, is planned and sensible, combining comfort with an appreciation for style and societal demands. Track pants and a polo t-shirt for a morning jog, straight-cut trousers and shirts for professional outings, a sleek, backless number for evening parties- she has mastered the art of dressing according to the occasion, and while her choices would always be tasteful and she’d never look out of place in any setting, she would never be the girl in a tie-dyed skirt or an over-the-top poncho or crystal-studded pants. Her clothes, more than anything else, reflect her non-risk taking attitude. In addition, her spine and shoulders are most comfirmedly incapable of slouching, her facial features would commit mutiny before contorting into any expression that would grant ammunition to friends laughing over old photographs at a slumber party, and you have a girl who, quite deliberately, would never look ridiculous if her life depended on it.



Excessively sensible
Unfailingly diplomatic
High levels of self-control
High achiever
Sometimes pretentious
Clear vision
Falsely humble


+ Fine dining
+ Rising early
+ Classical art
+ Sketching
+ Books
+ Long walks
+ Certificates and trophies
+ Praise, admiration, adulation of any kind
+ Theatre
+ Goals, plans, getting somewhere
+ Languages
+ Monuments
+ Charity, helping out
+ Power

- Quidditch
- Failure
- Physical pain/inconvenience
- Pranksters
- People who fool around in public
- Good-for-nothing’s
- Dark magic practitioners, immoral people
- Dirt
- Being uninformed
- Wasting time
- Contempt of others directed towards her
- Male chauvinism
- Childish behaviour, immaturity
- Being inferior to anyone

GOALS: Avariella is not a believer of goals, but of milestones. Her entire life, indeed, is one long road marked out neatly into- “Get best grades in all subjects”, “Top in the NEWT’s”, “Become Head Girl”, “Compile a social circle which serves emotional needs”, “Get started on illustrious Ministry career”, “Gain Order of Merlin First Class” and so on and forth. Aimless is one thing Avariella has never been, and sleeping through life is a cardinal sin.


Twitching of brow or upper lip, when she’s doing her best not to project her more-than-negative reactions towards someone
Twining a curl around the pen or pencil she’s writing with (her Muggleborn ways command her to regard quills as outdated and perenially useless implements of writing)
Tapping of the heel of her shoe against the floor when her patience is running low, and she’ll quite obviously chuck her heel if she has to wait for one.more.minute. Of course, that’s only inside her head.
Tending to imagine horrifically violent actions against the people who irritate her, frequently involving throwing them out of windows, burying them in quicksand or strangling them with their intestines. Again only in her head because she couldn’t possibly sacrifice her reputation so wantonly. This is a trait of hers she rather dislikes and tries her best to suppress. The violence that is, not the care for the reputation.

BOGGART: Ignominy. Death. Becoming something she despises.

PATRONUS: When she became Head Girl. When she got ten Outstandings on her NEWT’s. When she became the quickest intern in the year to gain a promotion. Notably, none of her Patronus memories center around other people, unless it is their admiring, worshipful faces.

Her right shoe was chafing, rather painfully at the soft, raw skin above her heel. She dragged her foot along, limping unnoticeably, as the door of the Hospital Wing approached, light outlined against the narrow gap between the wood and the stone floor. Someone had woken already, and thrown open the blinds, it seemed. Her palm settled on the cool wood, and pushed it open.

The door creaked open, the wood groaning horribly in the silence, and her eyes flickered over the sterile white walls of the Wing. The clinical scent of potions and salves clung to the air, barely cloaked by lemon disinfectant that the house elves used to mop the floors daily. The tiles were shining, the cabinets closed, the beds neatly made....all except one. The mop of platinum blonde was unmissable.

Her eyes rolled, looking skywards for a second. The guy slept till ten on most Sunday mornings. Wasn’t it just her luck that he chose to be awake at five a.m. today. Now she couldn’t even escape out of this courtesy visit by telling Albus that the blonde had been asleep. Honestly, her boyfriend seemed to be so sensible otherwise......and it was a guilty thought tempered by conscience, but even a microscope couldn’t detect what in all the world did he ever see in Scorpius Malfoy.

“Morning Scorpius. You’re up.......early.” The smile curving her lips looked perfectly natural.

Then it twitched, and clouded for a second- for the Malfoy didn’t whine about how the blinds had been pulled too early and the wretched sunlight had woken him, or drawl out a complacent response in that aggravating accent of his, or respond at all really. His eyes remained fixed, pale and drawn and shadowed with eyebags, at his clenched fists on the coverlet. He looked as if he hadn’t slept the entire night.


He raised his head, slowly, covers sliding off his chest in the process to reveal blood-soaked bandages covering his entire midriff. Those pale grey eyes swivelled around to fix on her with a disconcerting intensity, mouth stretched into a tight line; and Avariella hadn’t thought she could ever dislike any expression as much as the honey-sweet smile he liked directing her way in Albus’ company.....but the eyes made something in her gut twist uglily. He looked at her like a scientist inspecting a bug. Deciding which stimulus would make it squirm the most.

“Hello Avariella.” His lips sharpened into a smirk cold enough to cut. His eyes glittered strangely. “I must say, its perfectly lovely to see you.”

Of course, the aftermath of that conversation wasn’t a pleasant one. She was shaken, mind aghast at the deception, the mask that her boyfriend had played so perfectly for two years (two years).......and when she severed all relations from him in the library that night, looking into eyes that shone so green and were shuttered so tightly, the emotion thundering through her pounding beats of her heart was fear. Pure, unadulterated fear.

Of course, there was something else. Years after her graduation, and the accident that terminated her fledgling Auror career before it could be started, there were nights she would jerk awake in a cold sweat, mind pounding in a migraine that sought to remember a memory forgotten, the jagged scar flayed across her stomach burning like a red-hot whip. There was a darker memory that was seeking to claw its way out to the surface, something ill-suppressed that surfaced in nightmares and broken shards of images that seemed to make no sense- a forest and a curse and unbelievable, mind-scorching pain. But of course, things that made no sense were best forgotten, and as soon as daylight peeped through the crack of dawn, she’d discard the nightmares to be nightmares and proceed on with her day, the scar still burning like an erased memory.  

VERITASERUM: Avariella has never done anything she has to be ashamed of, so nothing to hide from the world.

MIRROR OF ERISED: Desires cannot be measured by a meter scale, weighed in kilogrammes and drawn in seconds. They simply are, and will always be, and every time a desire looks to the sky and towers over everything else, another one comes along to outstrip it.

Regardless, if one had to describe a desire to encapsulate Avariella Hudson’s entire existence, it would be desire for perfection. She lingers a lot over choices, weighing elaborate lists of pros and cons, because she doesn’t just wish for a perfect life.....she demands it. Its the only irrational wish she’s ever had. Her every path needs to be the best out of a set, every action precisely selected and timed so as to wring maximum profit out of it. She needs to look back at the end of time and assure herself that this period was properly lived, no large regrets created and no possible, rational way in which it could have been bettered.

PERSONALITY: The first thing you need to know about Avariella Hudson is that she’s the most irritatingly sorted person you’d ever meet. Anger, insecurities, doubts, fear, loneliness.....all such problems which plague the teenage multitude have quailed in the face of the blonde’s unassailable rationale. Everything seems rather obvious in that little head organized into neat little paths and roadways leading to their destinations- for example, rather than whine pathetically about abysmal grades like most of the Hogwarts populace were prone to do, Avariella bent down and worked the skin off her arse to get her straight O’s in the OWL’s and NEWT’s. She liked the respect that good marks got her, liked the appraising looks of the teachers, liked that they secured her career.....so she followed the obvious solution and got them. Mooning and pining over something unattainable has never been Avariella’s style: she’s unafraid of toil to get what she desires, the reason why she lasted so long in Hufflepuff, or she doesn’t waste time thinking about something if its impossible. Simple as that.

However, logic is indeed in the eyes of the logician, and Avariella’s logic serves her needs exceedingly well. Her hairstyle got a lot of compliments over dinner? Well, if a lot of people share one opinion, it can hardly be wrong. Daisy Mackintosh scoffed at her skirt in Charms? The opinions of others always tended to be biased, and were rather ill-affected by jealousy and inadequacy anyway. Avariella’s ability to justify and make almost anything sound reasonable extends to more than just inside her head, the reason why she’s always been hunted down for advice among her peers and enjoys giving it; and why though her Auror career may be terminated, her present stint in the courtroom is going rather brilliantly. She just has that way of sounding so eminently sensible while presenting her views, that she might as well be your mother wrinkling her eyebrows at you in disapproval, tutting lightly while you squirm in your seat and flush in embarrassment, wondering what the hell were you thinking.

A character trait Avariella has managed to cloak from the world, and herself too in fact, is her view of almost everything in long-term- the tendency to measure everything by cost and utility and whether saying this thing right now would impress that person right there, and if not antagonising the son of so-and-so even if he was being an utter prat right now would be worth the turn over later- something so inherently unconscious that her moral compass completely ignores it and Lucius Malfoy weeps over it in his quiet, proud-father moments. Not belittling the fact that she actually completely deserved the post, the Head Girl’s badge she bore with pride in her seventh year could certainly be attributed to this, and all the careful ways in which she never took sides in a fight and yet managed to completely convince both sides of her unanimous support. However, her measurement of utility and benefits is not strictly in a material sense, her deliberate pleasing of one person or the other at times simply in view of the fact that they’d make excellent friends and provide happy hours later; Avariella Hudson doesn’t like sealing off new roads, you see. Also, at times when her conscience does become aware of this trait, it tries its best to suppress it- but the fact remains that while Avariella may thoroughly be unfavorable towards Death Eaters, she rarely ever tells it to their faces, choosing to be politely cool about it instead.

Her lack of active antagonism however should never be misinterpreted as holding back opinions, because if there’s one thing she can do: its give opinions. Remember that time when you and your best friend got pissed off your heads and danced with lamentable lack of grace on the pub table....and remember those people who smiled tightly, brows rising high, noses scrunching in ill-hidden disapproval, averting their eyes as if ‘weirdness’ was something contagious? Yes.....she’s exactly one of those people. Of course she’d smile kindly and sympathetically at you afterwards and pat you on the back and say, “Lets get you off to bed, then.” in that tone of voice that leaves you feeling like an utter twit, or worse, a five-year old who doesn’t know any better. She’s one of those people who, without really doing anything, stop you from doing things because their opinions matter even if they really don’t, because how could they be wrong really; and so Avariella would get drunk on a weekday, or heckle at strangers on the street, or participate in spitting competitions, or do any of those weird, actually crazily fun things over her dead body, and is quite satisfied with living within societal restraints, thank you very much. Her patronising side comes out in such situations, and in situations where someone is at a distinct disadvantage or is feeling out of his/her depth, and Avariella delights in swooping in, smiling gently and taking the person under her wing, and actually being extremely generous and helpful overall, the role of the teacher or the guide suiting her admirably. If you think about it........she’s rather nice really, sweet and kind and rather perfect, if you discount all the times she acts like a b*tch.      


FATHER: Colin Hudson

MOTHER: Elinor Hudson nee Farrell

SIBLING/S: Fitzwilliam ‘Will’ Hudson, Scarlett Lee (adoptive sister)

OTHER: Karin Marlin, owner of the theatrical group that rehearses in the auditorium three blocks down her childhood home

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn

SPECIES: Human, as of now

SOCIAL STATUS: Middle class

A nice, practical brown barn owl called Barny (what? She never claimed to be particularly creative at eleven)

Her cabinet of medals and certificates, ranging from the little silver cup won in recitation at five, to the square piece of laminated parchment declaring her qualified to open a legal practice.


Early Years:

Avariella was born in a family as normal as it could get. Her father was an investment banker, her mother a highschool teacher, and even her cousins thrice removed had never seen the face of a police station. Scarlett, her adoptive sister, was the daughter of a dearly loved family friend and her induction into the immediate family after her parents’ death was marred with minimal drama and jealousy. They shared toys and pacifiers as toddlers, staked hard-fought claims over pillow forts as children, evicting Will from their domain with much aplomb and fanfare and even acted in their first play together (Cinderella- Arianne was the evil Lady Hortense Tremaine and Avariella the fairy godmother). However, the castes of school society can scarcely be denied, even by sisters in all but blood, and while A-student and soloist Avariella lost herself in the sheen of popularity and teachers’ praises (with minimal incidents of accidental magic), Scarlett drifted further and further into the arms of the ‘emo kids’. Opinions grew, so did differences- and Scarlett merely bent her head into a tiny nod and said a, “Good”, disappearing into her room soon afterwards on the day Avariella received her letter to Hogwarts.

Hogwarts Years:

Unlike most Muggleborns who stepped on the threshold of Hogwarts, Avariella did not have an exceedingly hard time adjusting. Her House mates were perfectly amiable, looked up to her, consulted her for academic and other sorts of assistance, and she only too happy to help in return. The overly brash, public nuisance-making Gryffindors, and the only too shifty Slytherins earned her ire, but she never begrudged them....forgiveness, regardless of whether they deserved it. She picked all the electives except Divination and Muggle Studies in third year, became youngest President of the Charms Club in fourth, and Prefect in fifth. Fifth was also the year she kissed a guy, broke the hearts of three more, and learned that perhaps Slytherins were better for more than study projects and waving greetings in corridors. Albus Potter was the sole reason she passed Arithmancy that year, and started liking guitars, and learning that despite what her mother said, maybe all males did not possess the emotional range and tact of a snail.

He was.......well, a little slice of brilliant, really. He used the equations and formulae they parroted in class to add a little zing to a Stinging Hex, to pass electricity through their classmates’ wands, to make little candle flames dance on late library nights; and the look on his face when she asked him out before the Christmas holidays was just on this side of endearing. A sensible head on the shoulders, always so unfailingly polite, dry commentary on the fallacies of their classmates, a bloody Potter.......their camaraderie took them through two entire years, and the loss of their virginities at sixteen. Sure, sometimes he’d clam up, eyes going blank as a sheet, seeking solitude more often than it was necessary, never sharing what was truly on his mind....and a time or two Avariella had caught him with fingers clenched tight on a vibrating wand, or spitting inflamatory, uncharacteristically venomous words at his brother or whoever pestered him for too long; but it only required a tightening of grip around the arm, a reprimanding smile, and he was back to polite, courteous Albus, accompanied by a smile and an unfailing apology. She had never met a man with so little ego.

Of course, so when Malfoy revealed it all to be a lie, that the sweet-mannered Potter son was nothing more than a Dark Arts practitioner- she took atleast a week to steady her mind, and broke relations with him immediately. It hurt, though no one would have noticed it. And it was comfort, because all her high ideals and compunctions for the blacker sides of magic seemed justified, all at once. And pride, because if her boyfriend of twenty four months turning out to be a deceitful bastard couldn’t break her.......then nothing could. Nothing.

She graduated a month later with the highest grades in form.


The world was zooming in and out of view, shifting colours and sizes like an out of control kaleiodoscope. It made her want to hurl; but judging by the vague sense of sourness resting against her numbed taste buds, and the feeling of cement being scoured out of her inner throat linings, she’d done that already. Her body was feeling too heavy anyway, lying like a limp, useless piece of rock on what felt vaguely like cotton bedsheets.

It took what seemed like an hour for her to raise sufficient energy to unstick her tongue from her palate. Her mouth still felt unusually thick, saliva obstructing the way, words gurgling in the base of her throat. “Wh....How d-di..did I...g-gh..get here?”

“Barbed wire through your stomach, on your last assignment.”

It didn’t feel like a barbed wire. It felt like someone had plunged serrated, white-hot teeth into her intestines, dripping with corroding venom and systematically chewed it to pieces. It felt like the lower part of her body wasn’t hers- for that much pain was unreal, or maybe her brain had chosen to sever all nerve endings from her chest onwards so that it wouldn’t shut down.


“I was on duty.” Came the curt reply. Shoes clicked against the floorboards of her bedroom, rounding the lower end of her massive four-poster, then paused briefly. “Rest well. Take the pain potions, you’ve already thrown up thrice.”

Her elbow knocked into the bedpost, fingers clutching vainly at the curtains in support; but her weakened shoulders barely raised an inch above the mattress, “W-wait....th...thank...” Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, biting around his name, and the door opened- mother and father and brother and relatives swarming in, concerned faces swimming in a world fast spinning with vertigo, and the last she heard as her head dropped like a stone against the pillow, was her mother’s panic-fraught voice and the door clicking shut behind her unlikely saviour.

Avariella had joined Auror training immediately after graduation, she remembered that much. Remembered the call coming in too, the tiny little red light flashing on their sensors that clued them in to unsavoury magic being cast in the area around the Forest of Dean. It was fairly muted, nothing high level- so she’d been sent on her first solitary investigation, because the Auror-in-charge had been a little preoccupied at that time shagging his PA against his desk. She remembered Apparating. And the following three months were a complete blank.

Barbed wire. Barbed wire. She repeated that to herself, again and again, as if the meaning of the words would change and morph into something more......recognisable with time. They didn’t. She said them to herself even when she filed her application for quitting from the trainee program......because no matter how painful, surely an innocuous part of a cursed fence shouldn’t be the reason why she felt like she couldn’t do it any longer. But she didn’t take the application back, and merely nodded impassively when her superior asked her if she was sure, fingers tracing the scar on her abdomen absentmindedly.

Three months she had battled death, life hanging in balance, all due to a wire. The following three were spent in her grandmother’s home in Australia, letting the heat soak into the bones of her limbs and letting her strengths recover. When she returned to her homeland and stepped into Mungo’s for a checkup; the staff startled as though they had seen an Inferius. The mumbling and the rapid correction of files and scribbling on reports after pricked at the back of her mind, but the major portion was far too preoccupied with the details of her new legal practice. She signed up as a government defendent soon after; for necessary experience, and the cloud in her mind began clearing for the first time in weeks. Looked like her perfect life was getting back on track again.  



RP EXPERIENCE: ..........*sighs* Do we really have to go over this again?

HOW YOU FOUND US: PA found me.

MAIN CHARACTER: Albus Severus Potter


At least one paragraph. You can skip if you have another character

Last edited by Avariella Hudson on Mon Apr 14, 2014 8:23 am; edited 2 times in total
Elijah Krum
25 : Alumnus
NoneLong Service Leave

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Re: Hudson, Avariella

on Sun Apr 13, 2014 11:46 pm
Fantastic! <3

Accepted and sorted into graduates!
Seventh Year Ravenclaw
Seventh Year Ravenclaw
Erika Dixon
Seventh Year

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Re: Hudson, Avariella

on Mon Apr 14, 2014 2:43 am
Thank yous <3
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Re: Hudson, Avariella

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